


Ghosts and Orange Sherbert

by reverseblackholeofwords, RubberSoles19



Series: Devil May Care [3]
Category: MatPat - Fandom, NateWantsToBattle - Fandom, Youtubers
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, One-Shot, as a treat, but you all can have a little angst, supernatural!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reverseblackholeofwords/pseuds/reverseblackholeofwords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubberSoles19/pseuds/RubberSoles19
Summary: A one-shot:Nate has been seeing terrifying hallucinations since Matt first met him a couple years ago. He may not know what his little brother sees, but Matt always knows exactly what to do when Nathan is swept up in another panic attack.
Relationships: Matthew Patrick & Nathan Sharp
Series: Devil May Care [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646251
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	Ghosts and Orange Sherbert

**Author's Note:**

> If you think Reverse can feasibly stop herself from writing anything about these boys, you're wrong.
> 
> Here's a little between-episode one-shot. As a treat!

Medina, Ohio  
November, 2000

Waiting outside in the chill of late fall, Matthew tucked his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and watched a beetle crawl lazily through the yellowing grass. Other kids were racing to their parent’s cars, laughing and talking. The whole schoolyard was buzzing with the energy of a promised Thanksgiving Break, a whole week away from classes and homework and the creepy janitor with the weird eye. Matthew, though, was quietly waiting for his little brother.

He was getting impatient, if he was honest with himself. Mary had told the boys that she’d treat them with a new video game to play over the break once they got home that afternoon, and if Nate was dragging his feet for some reason, Matt wished he’d hurry up already.

But looking up as the sun came out from behind a layer of drifting clouds, squinting into the sudden autumn brightness, Matthew saw Nate approaching through the throngs of other kids, bustling and jostling. They parted like the Red Sea around him, whether consciously or not. Even after two and a half years in the small community, Nathan Smith was still the weird kid, the grumpy little outsider in their midst.

Nate walked with his head down, his hands buried deep in the pockets of the same black hoodie he’d been wearing the day that he and John had shown up at Matthew’s house. Every time another kid came close to him, Nate flinched away, stumbling slightly to stay out of their path.

Matthew turned towards him as he got near. “Hey, did you talk to Lauren today like you said? Or did you chicken out again?”

But Nate kept his eyes on the stained white toes of his Converse as he passed Matthew, already headed down the sidewalk towards home. The older boy spun on his heel and jogged to keep up with him. “Nate, what’s up?” Still no reply, so Matt raced out front and stopped in Nate’s path, arms spread out to either side. “Hey, you gotta talk to me, kid. What’s going on?”

His little brother’s bangs, as always, were hiding his eyes. Matthew swore every time his mom took them to get haircuts, Nate found a new way to talk Mary into letting him keep his bangs long just so he could hide behind them. But now Matt knew to look for other signs, the gentle shake to Nate’s curled shoulders, the rigid line of his back, his arms shoved deep into the hoodie’s pockets so that he half-disappeared into the fabric.

He knew something was wrong.

Then slowly, gently, Nate took a step forward and pressed his forehead into Matt’s chest. His breathing was jumpy, cut through with barely-suppressed sobs, and Matthew’s outstretched arms, once held up to block Nate’s path, now closed around him and crushed him tight to Matt’s chest. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, right?”

Matthew scanned the street around them. There were still plenty of kids pouring out of the school building just behind them, still more cars driving past, and he knew that if someone tried to come up and ask what was wrong, Nate would probably bolt - hide somewhere until he could finish crying and then sneak back into the house when he hoped no one would notice. So Matt pulled them both around the side of the school library to the back where there was a little courtyard between buildings, complete with a few trees that flowered in spring, a little fountain that never had any water in it, and most importantly, a small wooden bench.

He sank them both down onto it, and the moment they were sitting, Nate buried his face in his brother’s chest again, shaking hands grabbing fistfulls of Matthew’s shirt and clinging tight. His whole body jittered and twitched violently, like he was trying to hold it in. Matthew smoothed a hand over Nate’s back and hugged him still tighter, whispering, “Let it out before you explode, okay? It’s alright. It’s okay.”

And Nate gave one choked cry that broke Matt’s heart in half. Seeing Nate hurt like this always had a special way of reaching right inside Matthew’s ribcage and scrambling everything up, and he’d do anything to protect the kid - middle schoolers were little monsters, after all - anything to keep him in one piece.

Nate was tough as nails but brittle on the inside. Chip past that concrete outer layer and he fell apart. Matthew didn’t even want to know what they had said this time, what button they’d managed to push. All he wanted was to pound a few seventh-graders’ heads in.

But Nate just held on tight, tight, tight, and Matthew rocked them both gently as he continued to cry. Then the hiccups started, deep and painful. Matt squeezed one of Nate’s shoulders. “Breathe with me, alright? Slow and steady.” He took a deep breath, feeling Nate breathe in, too, and they continued in sync until Nate finally calmed down. Sobs turned into shakey sniffles. Full-body shaking turned to just a slight tremble in his fingers.

Matt leaned back a little, trying to look down at Nate’s face. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

Nate shook his head and swiped one sleeve of his hoodie over his face.

“Want me to go beat them up for you?” Matt asked, flexing non-existent muscles.

That earned him the smallest of smiles and another head shake.

Matt hummed to himself in thought. “How about ice cream before we go home?”

A pause, and then Nate finally looked up at him and nodded, still bashful after his meltdown. He always half-expected Matt to tease him about it, call him a baby or a sissy - all top tier insults to a seventh-grade boy - or tell him he was overreacting like his dad often would before Nate learned to have his meltdowns elsewhere. But Matthew never did any of those things. Instead he dug in his backpack for what was left of his allowance, grinned in satisfaction at the collection of odd dollars and quarters, and ruffled Nate’s hair with his free hand.

Nate watched him count the change and felt a little of that horrible, gnawing panic subside in his stomach. Then Matt proudly announced they could get three scoops to share -  _ share _ , he emphasized playfully while Nate ducked his head again, grinning.

They got up from the bench and headed back to the sidewalk. The schoolyard had cleared out considerably, everyone eager to get home for the break, and so there was no one to stop and stare as Nate rubbed the remaining tears from his face.

Matt chattered on about anything and everything, mostly to fill up the silence so Nate didn’t feel awkward about not talking. It was always hard after one of his panic attacks. His dad always said he ran his mouth too much, anyways, but crying made him clam up entirely, like they’d all just left his head.

By the time they pushed open the door to the ice cream parlor, the bells attached to the door jingling loudly, Matt had gotten on the topic of Pokemon type advantages and weaknesses. They stopped at the glass counter with all the flavors, and Matt, without missing a beat, ordered a scoop of Nate’s three favorite flavors - Rocky Road, orange sherbet, and peanut butter swirl, a combination only Nate could love.

Then, grabbing a pink, plastic spoon for each of them, Matt carried their ice cream to the table in the back of the shop and plopped down in the seat with its back to the door so Nate could sit in the corner. “So, really Totodile is still a way better starter, in my opinion. I just don’t get your obsession with Cyndaquil.”

“He’s adorable and deadly!” Nate snapped back, surprising himself as he slipped into the same comfortable argument they’d had a thousand times before. No one could get him out of his head better than Matt could. “You and Totodile are just jealous of his dashing good looks and his Flamethrower.” Nate snagged the cup full of their ice cream and pulled it closer to himself as Matt reached to get a spoonful, giggling as he watched Matt frown in annoyance.

“Hey, who paid for this ice cream?” Matt teased, and - distracting Nate by flicking a stray sprinkle at him - he finally swiped a spoonful of the orange sherbet and ate it proudly. “Take that, you little turd.”

Nate snickered, kicking Matt’s shin under the table. “You know you loooove me,” he teased right back as he picked a marshmallow from the Rocky Road and flicked it at Matt’s forehead.

Matt gasped as the marshmallow hit him right between the eyes and, grinning, glared across the table at his punk little brother. “Yeah, yeah,” he said while grabbing a napkin to wipe the stickiness off his forehead, “you better be glad that I do.”

And really, Nate thought as they ate their ice cream while the cars passed outside and the woman behind the counter hummed to herself, he was glad that his brother loved him. Glad that he had someone he could go to who wouldn’t shove him away when he felt himself spiralling. Glad that his big brother could hold him together when he was falling apart.

Of course, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but he guessed he loved Matthew, too.


End file.
